Children Left Behind

Today it’s the anniversary of my Dad’s Celebration of Life. He died on my Nana’s birthday back in 2017, nine months before Ben was diagnosed.

Growing up without him after the age of four, when he left the home for a younger woman, I see how this early part of my life was very much shaped by all that happened then and followed on.

The feeling of loss without my Dad I only really acknowledged properly in my teens when my emotions caught up with me and in the years that followed, I simply craved time with him to get to know him as a person. Seeing him only once a month compounded the disconnection. Still, I never really asked why or had the opportunity, once he had his second family, or the nerve to speak up and express how I felt.

I am so protective over all three of my children and vowed as a mother never to leave them, or give any cause for them to feel loss of any kind.

When cancer hit our family, it was a profound shock, but we seemed to approach it with dignity, led largely by the way our children responded and were able cope with it all, knowing that their dad and I have hopefully given them a solid foundation in life.

We are very open about saying those three words, ‘I love you’ and I’ve no regrets. I feel that my children all know it to their core, however, I appreciate now that it may be ever more embarrassing when I say it out loud to them, as they grow up.

There is so much focus on the child we have lost some days, that I feel perhaps the children left behind might feel somewhat forgotten about. After all, cancer affects the entire family and not only do our living children endure the cancer diagnosis with their sibling, they may experience losing their sibling, but also may lose their parents to a degree in the process; and sometimes themselves for a while.

Bereavement shakes the foundation of all you know and all the security you have. We, as parents, live to protect and care for our children, guiding them through their early years, providing them with love and hope, inspiration and a great platform to leap from into their lives with gusto, as they become young adults.

I feel some days that I owe my living children an apology for being so over protective now after losing Ben, that it can be stifling for them. I recognise it, but I always try to ride the wave of anxiety and let it go. Life has changed on so many levels, but my girls absolutely keep me going. They are the light that brings the sparkle into my life and gives me the inspiration to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I feel Ben around from time to time. I know he helps me in my writing and comes to me occasionally in dreams, or sends a butterfly, dragonfly or rainbow when I need it most.

My daughters have borne the brunt of an extraordinary few years and one day I hope they will be able to share with us how they have felt about this experience and growing up without their brother.

For now, I wish for them a whole life of fun, laughter, release, freedom, love and happiness and hope that we celebrate our children who are with us in this life just as much as those who have been and now, who stride the stars.

My girls at sunset with the woofers, South Downs